A/N: Sorry for the delay! This story has been taking more and more energy to write lately so I'm not able to get the chapters posted as quickly. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, including new folks and those I couldn't reply to individually. I really appreciate hearing from you.


Chapter 12: Spectres

The moon is only a thin crescent and doesn't do much to combat the darkness seeping into the staging area, but Gale is crouching out of view behind a bulldozer anyway, listening as the rumbling of the approaching vehicle grows louder. To avoid detection, he adjusts his position as it passes him, the eerie glow from its headlights illuminating the airborne dust. He can see that it's a truck but it looks like virtually every other run-down civilian junk heap he's seen in this district: gray, dented and coated in dirt. No useful identifying features.

The engine cuts off after parking next to his own car, and then doors open and voices confer quietly, followed by a man's voice calling out, "Anyone here?"

Gale wedges his body deeper into the space between the bulldozer's cab and its oversized track belts, crusted mud rubbing off into his clothes. Good. Camouflage. No way is he identifying himself until he knows whether these people pose a threat or not.

He can hear a woman speaking. "Guess not. Government hack and his girlfriend must have left already." Gale is horrified to realize that he's the 'government hack.' He should shoot these people for that comment alone.

"The trailer was over there," the man's voice says, tinged with impatience. "Let's do the sweep." Gale hears the crunching of shoes on gravel moving toward the area where the trailer had been parked. Leaning out cautiously from behind the bulldozer, he can see two figures scouring the ground with their flashlights. So they're the cleanup crew, sent to be sure the trailer disappeared without a trace… Which suggests that whoever stole the battery from his car only intended to slow him and Madge down. The car could have easily been rigged to detonate when he started it, but that would have drawn apparently unwanted attention to whatever is going on here. If all these people actually needed to do was conceal the trailer and whatever was inside it, moving it would accomplish that.

But why not just move it and be done with it? Maybe he and Madge inquiring made them nervous. Or possibly something in Madge's stolen notes triggered worries about her becoming suspicious about the trailer and they thought she might make a call on her portable phone to alert others to be on the lookout for a missing trailer on the road… He feels a fresh surge of irritation at her for keeping things from him, although it's tempered by his own guilt at not have been more concerned about the explosion on the road between Districts 2 and 3 that Dusty had mentioned… He should have been more alert to the possibility of potentially violent scheming in this area.

He climbs on top of the bulldozer's tracks so he can get a better view of these shitheads who either sabotaged his car or are associated with whoever did, but it's too dark to see anything other than silhouettes and flashlight beams. He can't see how well (or if) they're armed, and with such limited tactical information he can't confront them, which is frustrating because knocking their heads together is pretty tempting at the moment. All he knows is that he's outnumbered and that waiting for him somewhere in the forest are a cute spy with questionable judgment and a dangerously non-stealthy dog. He prays to whatever dog behavior spirits might exist that Madge can keep Zipper from barking…

The murmuring voices are growing louder and he realizes the people are returning to their truck, so he ducks out of view again.

"Think they got a ride out with the road crew?" the man's voice asks.

"Must have. Otherwise we'd have seen them on the road. Eh, not our problem."

Gale tenses at the awareness they were looking for him and Madge along the road. He's simultaneously relieved to hear that these two at least don't seem to be interested in tracking them, although maybe there are others within the division of labor amongst these crooks who do have that task... He stays on edge as they get back into their truck, the engine roaring like an angry animal in the quiet of the forest. When the taillights disappear and he can no longer hear the engine's distant hum, he waits a few more minutes and then conducts his own careful inspection of the staging area. He doesn't know what he's looking for, but all he sees are gravel and oil stains. It seems like they didn't miss anything, so he starts up the hillside to find Madge and Zipper.

They're easy to track, even with only a flashlight: Zipper's leash confined his telltale zigzagging into a narrow band of intensely disturbed underbrush. After about five minutes of hiking, Gale is relieved to hear Zipper's tail beating against leaves.

"Madge?" He shines his flashlight toward the sound of the tail wagging, but all he sees is Zipper, leashed to a tree next to their backpacks and straining eagerly to greet Gale.

He raises his voice. "Madge!" Where the hell is she? He unties Zipper and throws the flashlight beam around the surrounding area so he can figure out which direction she walked. Her path is easy to spot, but doesn't make sense: why would she walk back down the hill at an angle that won't take her to the staging area? He picks up their backpacks and starts tracking her, his concern about her being hurt by their visitors replaced by worry that she'll get herself lost.

He alternates calling her name and listening to the forest's nocturnal murmurings for some sign of her, growing more concerned the farther he walks. He brought the gun because he worried they might encounter predatory animals or mutts, and Madge could be walking right into to one. Why didn't she at least keep Zipper with her?

Squinting, he thinks he can make out the faint beam of another flashlight up ahead. When he shines his own light in that direction and sees her familiar form and light hair, relief floods him and he and Zipper both rush toward her. He can see her flashlight bobbing as she runs in their direction, too.

They crash into each other and he can feel her clinging to him as tightly as he's holding her.

"You're all right," Madge says breathlessly, her fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt. "I was so worried… I heard the car drive away, and when you didn't come find us I thought they'd taken you or hurt you… I was on my way to come help."

He closes his eyes, as though that could block what she'd just said, which is wrong in so many ways it leaves a knot of anxiety in his stomach. She was on her way to getting completely lost without any gear, not even heading in the right direction. She shouldn't have been returning anyway—what would she have done if he'd run into trouble with the people in the truck? She's no Katniss. He's lucky she hadn't gotten any farther or reached a point where he wouldn't have been able to track her any longer…

Pulling back slightly to look at her, he sees smudges of dirt on her face and leaves and moss in her hair—she must have tripped at some point. But she's looking at him with such concern and relief, and he's so glad she didn't walk off a cliff accidentally or get attacked by a mutt, that he can't find it in him to be upset with her and instead gently brushes the dirt off her forehead.

"Gale, what happened?" she asks urgently. "They didn't see you?"

"No." He quickly explains his theory that whoever they were, they seemed primarily concerned with ensuring he and Madge didn't find out what was in the trailer. Madge listens attentively, nodding occasionally as though she agrees with his assessment of the situation, and when he finishes with his account he breaks the news that they can't hike back along the road. There are too many stretches without cover—they'd be cornered and vulnerable. He also doesn't want to risk a ride from a possibly hostile vehicle.

"We'll need to hike overland," he concludes. "We can go straight from the forest to a populated area where we can call for help from people we trust."

Madge seems dazed and mutely nods a few times before suddenly snapping out of it. She grasps his arms and locks her wide, worried eyes on his. "Gale, I'm so sorry, I never meant to risk you. I really did think we were just going hiking together, which is all I wanted. I swear. I mean, I was curious about the quarry but it was an afterthought. I don't know what I would have done if anything happened to you…"

She trails off and he can tell from her pained expression that she's being truthful. He also knows on a deeper level she wouldn't consciously endanger him, but he's still angry she would keep crucial facts from him so they couldn't jointly weigh the risks. She may be good at sneaking around unnoticed, but Gale is unfortunately recognized virtually everywhere these days; sunglasses weren't anywhere near a good enough disguise for him. Anyone in that construction area—or at the quarry—could have identified him and warned the people in charge of the trailer that he was poking around… Add in Madge's notes: instant threat to anyone with something to hide.

He pulls himself away from Madge and kneels next to his backpack to sort through his map collection. "I'm fine with risks," he says, picking out the one he hopes will help him plot their route, "as long as I know what those risks are." He pauses to cast a stern look at Madge. "So is there anything else I need to know to get us home safely?"

Madge kneels on the other side of his backpack and pets Zipper, who has been pawing the outer pocket where the trail mix lives. "I don't know what I can tell you," she says apologetically. "The information I have is restricted, and it's mostly unsubstantiated suspicions. I'm not supposed to be working right now, actually, and losing my phone and notes isn't going to help me at work..." She starts fiddling with a carabiner attached to a loop on his pack, clicking it open and closed, and then looks at Gale. "For getting home, I agree we should stay off the road. Once we get to a phone I'll call Simon…" She sighs and he guesses she doesn't want to deal with the consequences of getting into this situation. "If he says it's OK, I can tell you more."

She clearly hopes this offer will satisfy him. Fat chance: Simon being the one authorizing Madge telling him something doesn't sit well. But it's the best she can do, and it doesn't change the fact that they need to get home as quickly and stealthily as possible. For now, that's all he's going to worry about.

He makes a noncommittal grunting sound, acknowledging what she said but not endorsing it. Then so she knows it's not all her fault he adds, "I should have known something was up in this area. There was an explosion a while back on the road they're building to 3. I thought it was suspicious, but officially it was declared an accident. So many of the quarries and construction crews use explosives for their work… Now I wonder... Maybe there are more groups than I thought trying to get a head start on the land grab."

Madge quietly absorbs that information while he studies his maps by flashlight. If they cut across the next few mountains they'll hit the nearest village. Setting the map between them on the backpack, he describes their proposed route to Madge.

"How far?" He hears the trepidation in her voice.

"About 20 miles. Assuming we don't get lost." Given the state of these maps, he isn't making any guarantees.

"Starting now? We can't see anything."

"Well, we're not hanging around here." It's too dark to safely hike very far tonight, but they need to at least get away from the staging area in case anyone comes looking for them. If they can climb to the top of this ridge, they can find a sheltered place to rest for a few hours until sunrise. Madge should be fine as long as he's the one who navigates; she did well on the hike today. But there's the little problem of her tendency to wander…

"Madge," he says firmly, "we need some ground rules." By the flashlight's beam he can see her slightly scrunching her nose, looking so adorable he has to remind himself she needs a scolding for her own safety.

"No wandering away. Do you know where we are right now? Nowhere near the staging area. You were headed west. If we get separated again, stay put. I'll find you. You leave an obvious trail. Wandering around without knowing where you're going is the worst thing you could do." He feels like he's lecturing Posy, who probably has as much wilderness know-how as Madge. "There are animals and mutts out here, so stay close to me or at least keep Zipper with you. OK?"

"OK," she says softly, not meeting his eyes. After a few moments, she rummages through her backpack for her jacket and quietly pulls it on. He thinks she seems appropriately warned, so he pulls on his own jacket and sets off up the mountain. The sooner they can get to the top, the sooner they can rest.

#

Madge sullenly trails Gale as he ascends what she's internally determined to be the worst of all the steep slopes they've trudged up today. Gale, of course, is charging ahead without any apparent effort, unhindered by the minimal visibility. Probably because he's bionic and has telepathy with the forest, which makes Madge wish she too had special powers. Preferably the kind that would magically transport her right now into a warm, safe bed.

At least Gale no longer is looking at her like he wants to throw her into a rock crusher. He seemed to accept that she can't tell him more about her ongoing investigation and that she didn't mean to endanger him, but he obviously also thinks he has to baby-sit her. Maybe she did get lost when she was trying to get back to the staging area, but if she had made it there and he'd been in trouble, who's he to say she wouldn't have been useful in some way? True she had to leave her weapon in the Capitol and hasn't technically used it or her combat training since her Enhanced Field Readiness course, but she would have had the element of surprise on her side… And even though her particular skills are more suited to urban environments, she still might have been able to help… Instead, to him she's just the reason he was facing danger in the first place (admittedly true) and her only contribution has been nearly getting lost, leaving her feeling guilty and useless and strangely bitter.

Her ability to judge the passage of time has been so marred by their nighttime flight that she isn't sure how long they've been moving, but when she sees Gale and Zipper stopped up ahead she realizes with relief that they're finally near the top of this horrible slope. Gale is drinking water and Madge can see that he poured some into a little bowl for Zipper. She'd think it was sweet that he brought a bowl for Zipper, except she's preoccupied with being miserable.

"How are you doing?" Gale asks, passing her his canteen.

Madge tries to swallow her complaints at the same time that she gulps the cool water. "Fine," she says tersely. And then she remembers to smile, but it's a pale effort.

Gale watches her with an amused expression and then says, "Zipper's tired. Can you wait here with him while I scout out a shelter?"

Madge nods and gratefully sinks to the ground next to Zipper, who's propping his head on his water bowl, eyelids drooping slightly. She knows the feeling. But she's determined not to complain, both because this situation is her fault and because Katniss would undoubtedly have been able to easily handle this excursion. Katniss would never get scared at all the weird rustling sounds from the trees Madge has heard tonight, and would never whine about being tired and hungry. This is nothing compared to the Hunger Games, and it's not even illegal the way hunting outside District 12 was.

Zipper pitifully inches on his belly towards Gale's backpack and Madge realizes he's sniffing for food so she feeds him the rest of the sandwich that he already ruined with his slobber. She chokes down one of the energy bars she and Gale had packed, but it's disgusting and reminds her of war rations. Simon's probably dining on something exquisite right now, while her aunt and uncle finish the rest of the roast chicken from last night…

Another reason to feel horrible about getting into this mess: her aunt and uncle are most likely worried about her. The note she'd left said she was hiking with Gale and Zipper, so there's at least a possibility they'll assume Madge is following Zipper's lead in defecting from the Whistler house to Gale's apartment. As embarrassing as it is to think it looks like she rudely ran off to stay overnight with Gale, it's less upsetting than the reality that she's stranded in the wilderness.

The temperature drop is especially noticeable now that they aren't moving anymore so Madge pulls her windbreaker closer to her body, but it doesn't do much to warm her. Her bare legs are covered in goose bumps and a fine layer of dust, and she curses herself for not wearing long pants like Gale did. She's also surprised to see she still has leg bones since her legs feel like they've transformed into rubber after all this trekking. The drills she does for work keep her in good shape, but this day would have taxed all but the Katnisses and Gales of the world.

Just as she's starting to grow anxious about Gale's absence, he returns and announces that he found a place they can rest out of the wind. She wearily follows him to an area just below the invisible line on the slope where trees still grow. These bedraggled trees have been so abused by the high altitude gusts, though, that they're practically growing sideways and one recently toppled over. Madge decides to use the fallen tree as a bench while Gale pulls supplies out of their packs and starts a small fire, explaining that he thinks it's safe because nobody seems to be tracking them and visibility is low anyway.

The panicky feeling in her chest starts like the tiny spark Gale is nurturing in the baby fire, though it grows as the flames do. Madge pulls Zipper next to her and tries to concentrate on petting him to distract herself from the memories the flames are melting. Closing her eyes doesn't help—the dull orange penetrates her eyelids, the way it did when she was in her parents' bedroom that night, seeing the neighbors' house explode into a fireball through the window—so she buries her face in Zipper's neck, escaping into darkness. His oblivious simplicity is a comfort.

When a large POP erupts from the fire, Madge looks up in time to see the small lattice of twigs and logs near Gale collapse and send embers and ashes flying into the air. Suddenly all she can see are the pieces of the fence in her backyard at home exploding as she and Simon were trying to fight their way through the flaming everything to find safety on the night of the bombing…

"Put it out," she whispers. Another vicious burst of crackling from the fire makes her leap up from the log and shoot backward, away from the light and the heat. "GALE PUT IT OUT!"

He jumps up and turns around, clearly shocked at her reaction. "Madge, it's just a campfire." He takes a step toward her and is speaking calmly, which doesn't make any sense—that fire could leap up out of control at any second and burn him or Zipper or her just like it had burned everyone back home…

She shakes her head violently. "No. We don't need it! Put it out. Please!"

He steps over the log and pulls her into a hug, shielding her from the sinister oranges and reds and creeping smoke. Madge tries focus on the crinkly fabric of Gale's jacket on her cheeks and how warm and reassuring and familiar his body feels, but the crackling sounds of the fire keep intruding, each hiss and pop making her flinch. The exhaustion and stress from the day have frayed her nerves to the point where she doesn't have it in her to pretend to not be bothered by this. She can feel the tears start to leak from her eyes and roll off the waterproof folds of Gale's coat, frustrating her into crying even harder because despite all her efforts today now he'll know how weak she really is…

Gale twists around for a moment, letting in a rush of cold air between them, and then is back, warming her up and gently rubbing her back. "It will burn itself out soon." He's silent for a few seconds and then says quietly, "Vick also can't handle flames now. I didn't make the connection that it might be hard for you…"

She didn't know, either, not having been around any fires since that night. Yes, she sees those scenes in her mind constantly, but hadn't thought a campfire would be so terrifying to experience. She squeezes Gale, wishing he already knew and not wanting to re-live that night by talking about it. But hasn't he been saying that he doesn't like not having the whole story? She's the same way—his not telling her things has been equally frustrating for her. Maybe since already feels so terrible, she should just get it out now…

Taking a long breath, she wipes her eyes with her sleeve and then mumbles into Gale's neck, "I never told you about my parents." She can feel his muscles tense slightly, but he keeps a firm grip on her. Not saying anything. Listening.

Madge hears her voice distantly and mechanically start to recount the night of the bombing after she and Gale separated. How Peacekeepers shot her father while he was trying to turn the electricity back off but that he made it home in an attempt to help Madge and her mom, how she and Simon found his body next to her mother, who had already been dosed with morphling for the night but must have been woken up by the bombing, seen what was happening to the district from her window, and been coherent enough to understand that neither Madge nor her father were anywhere in the house.

"She took the rest of her morphling. All of it. Before he got there. She must have decided she didn't want to burn to death," Madge says in a trance-like voice. "I still think that counts as the Capitol killing her, though, don't you? Since the only reason she even had the morphling was because they gave her those headaches."

She feels Gale kiss the top of her head, which breaks something in her and causes her to start sobbing again. How many times has she cried about the horrible way her parents died and when will it stop feeling like someone pummeling her insides into mush? And how can she not have parents anymore?

At some point she runs out of tears and registers Gale leading her back to the fallen tree and their backpacks, where he has her sit down and bundles her legs in a blanket and pushes a thick, woolly sweater over her head. The sweater smells like him and she could happily never take it off. He sits next to her on the ground so they're both leaning against the log, facing the ashy remains of the abandoned fire. The finishing touch on their nest is Zipper, who Gale orders to sit in between them. Zipper, happy to be with his pack, curls up and rests his head on Gale's leg.

"Try to get some sleep," Gale says gently, putting his arm around her so she can rest her head on him. "As soon as it's light enough to see again, we can keep moving."

Madge doubts she can sleep under these conditions, but she does feel warmer now and if she has to be stuck on a mountain all night, she's glad she's with Gale. Zipper makes her feel a little better, too, though he's sleeping so soundly she wonders how useful he'll be at alerting them to any dangers.

Staring at the charred branches in the makeshift fire pit, Madge thinks about how of course Gale isn't scared of fires. He isn't scared of anything. Gale must be thinking about the campfire, too, because he starts talking, his voice a low comforting rumble in her ear as she rests her head against his chest.

"Campfires to me mean warming up on a cold day. And cooked meat and roasted chestnuts. Good things."

Madge never had campfires in her life. The only fires she knows are the ones from the night of the bombing—her family's fireplace didn't even work. She listens as Gale tells her about his father teaching him how to make fires in the woods outside District 12, and feels slightly buoyed by the hints of happiness in his voice, describing another era when he was more carefree. Maybe she'll be like that, too, eventually: able to think about her parents without being assaulted by terrifying, vivid memories of how they died.

#

Madge is still dozing next to him, and he's relieved she's both getting some sleep and has turned off her brain for a few hours. Just when he thought he couldn't feel any worse about not going with her back to District 12… Well, at least he was able to help her calm down. It's a start on making it up to her.

The soft breeze from the afternoon has been steadily picking up strength as the night wears on and he hears the whistling of the leaves before he feels the wind on his skin. He pulls his jacket closer around his arms and smoothes Madge's hair from where the wind ruffled it. She burrows into him a little further and he wishes he could do the last few months over again. The last year, since he's wishing.

Looking upward to the sky, he's encouraged to see stars instead of clouds. Madge is tougher than he expected, but getting drenched when they're already so cold is a problem they could do without. He smiles slightly as he looks back at Madge and Zipper, both slumbering. If someone had told him two years ago that he would be sitting on a mountainside outside District 2 with Madge Undersee and her family's pet dog in the middle of the night, he would have scoffed at the absurdity of it. But here they are.

At the first hint of the sun approaching the horizon, he nudges Madge awake and is entertained at her apparent embarrassment that she fell asleep. They eat some snacks and start moving right away since it's still cold and walking will warm them up. Gale loves this time of day: the shift from night to dawn, when so many animals are stirring. He hadn't thought to set up any snares last night, but it doesn't matter—he couldn't have cooked the meat anyway without scaring Madge again. They had trail mix earlier and should be fine until they reach the village, hopefully in the afternoon.

By mid-morning they've crossed into the next valley and Gale lets them take a break near a stream so he can purify some water. Zipper tries to fish again while Madge sits quietly on a rock. She hasn't said much all morning. Maybe this is just how she is, though—he's never spent this many consecutive hours with her, which is strange to realize. Maybe she's still upset about everything they've been through since yesterday. Understandably.

They push onward up the next ridge and he's pleased with their progress, although he can tell Madge is getting tired because she's dragging farther behind him and Zipper. Scanning the rest of the hill, he decides they can take another break when they reach the top. Then he spots movement and freezes, still on edge about the possibility of mutts. But a mass of white fur reveals itself to be a mountain goat, majestically watching over the slope from a large, outcropped rock. He studies the animal for a few seconds, thrilled to finally see one after reading about them in his books, and then turns around to point it out to Madge.

But he can't see her. Quickly retracing his steps down the rocky slope, he berates himself for letting her fall behind. Finally he spots her—sprawled awkwardly on the ground with her eyes closed.

"Madge!" He kneels next to her and shakes her gently.

Her eyes open and stare at him, glassy. She blinks and he helps her sit up, realizing too late that he's been pushing their pace too hard and that she probably isn't used to not eating.

"I think you passed out," he explains apologetically as makes her drink some water. She looks pale. "You need to eat, too, Madge," he says, digging through his bag. He pulls out the trail mix they nibbled on earlier, but clearly that wasn't good enough. "I still have the rest of that sandwich… Somewhere…"

"No, it's gone. I gave it to Zipper last night," she says distantly, causing Gale to stop pawing through his backpack and stare at her in horror.

"He's a dog!"

"He seemed hungry. And he slobbered all over that sandwich."

"Well, now you're fainting and he's doing just fine." Gale glares at Zipper for not refusing the sandwich. "We still have at least ten miles to go." He angrily shoves his backpack on the ground and pushes the trail mix back into Madge's hands. "Eat more of that or we'll never make it out of here." He slouches against a nearby tree trunk, frustrated with himself for not taking a town girl's delicate sensibilities into account. It's no big deal for him to skip eating until they hit the village, but if he'd known Madge would get this weak from hunger he could have been at least looking for edible berries as they hiked.

Madge isn't even eating the stupid trail mix, just staring at a handful of it as though her brain isn't functioning well enough to lift her hand to her mouth and start chewing.

"Anytime now, Madge," he warns.

"I'm sick of trail mix!" she suddenly shouts, hurling the handful she'd been holding onto the ground. Zipper pounces on the scattered nuts. "And I'm tired and dirty and you're making us go too fast and I'm not Katniss!"

He freezes; Katniss has nothing to do with their predicament. He has no idea how to respond and is alarmed at how worked up Madge is getting.

"I know Katniss would never complain or feed a sandwich to a dog, even if it was disgusting, which it totally was. You guys would probably already be in the village by now and have killed twenty deer and be dragging them along behind you so you could sell the antlers!"

Why is she comparing herself to Katniss? Why especially to how Katniss used to be rather than how she is now? And does Madge not realize Zipper has been scaring off all the deer?

"I bet even now, even after what I told you yesterday about my parents, you still wouldn't go with me to District 12. Because you'll always put me second."

Realization hits. "That's what this is about?"

Madge looks at him with an icy pout.

"You're wrong," he says, pushing off his tree and moving to stand in front of her. "There's a difference between not being there for you and actively harming her. It was a strategic decision," he says bluntly. "I had to make them in the war all the time. They weren't always right, but that one was."

"That doesn't make me feel better, Gale," Madge says stonily. "To forever be second place to someone you think hates you."

"That's not it," he says sharply. "You could handle seeing 12 better than she could handle seeing me. No matter what I did, I was going to hurt one of you, and I knew you would be able to get over it better than she would." He sees Madge looking at him cautiously and hopes it's because she can see the truth behind his words.

"She gave up," he admits quietly, still haunted by the memories of that eerie singing and the knowledge that Katniss was trying to kill herself through passivity in her training center jail during her trial. "They squeezed everything they could out of her until there was nothing left and she gave up. Even at home during the worst part of winter when we were starving and hadn't found anything in the forest worth eating for weeks at a time, she kept fighting. But without Prim… I might as well have killed both of them…"

The air feels thin and he can't blame the elevation. "No thanks to me, she eventually found it in her to keep going. Haymitch and Peeta and Greasy Sae deserve all the credit." Thank goodness they could help… "Madge, I couldn't hurt her anymore or risk her relapsing."

He sees Madge watching him with a confused expression, which turns into a frown. "But she can't actually blame you for Prim," she says, sounding frustrated. "That bomb should never have been made or used, and obviously you wouldn't have hurt children! And you loved Prim, too, Gale. You took care of her all those years…"

"I know," he snaps, tears pricking his eyes before he squeezes them shut in an attempt to head them off. He hasn't felt like he even deserved to mourn Prim because he's been so consumed with guilt for his role in her death. But even hearing her name conjures memories of how she'd smile whenever he and Katniss came home with wild apples and how lovingly she doted on that ugly yellow cat. She would have been fascinated by that mountain goat he just saw, probably making a joke about how it could have been friends with Lady. But neither Prim nor Lady exist anymore.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Madge holding out her hand to him from her spot on the rock. She's not perfect either, and knowing that helps somehow. But mostly he's reminded that she still wants him near her, despite knowing full well how dangerous he is and how wrong that bomb was.

He takes her hand and lets her pull him next to her on the rock, where as soon as he's seated she leans into him and wraps her arms around his shoulders. He automatically slides his arm around her waist and consciously tries to squelch the persistent guilt at how easily they fit together and how much better she makes him feel.

"I wish I could take it back," he says into her hair.

He feels her sigh and tangle her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. "I know you do. We all wish a lot of things."


A/N: Bad guy crisis averted for the moment… Although maybe the bad guys are good guys for forcing these two to talk to each other. Either way, sorry there wasn't a shoot out.